


Distracted at Court

by Blink_Blue



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink_Blue/pseuds/Blink_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver's a kinky son of a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distracted at Court

Connor shifts slightly in his seat once again, the third time in the past five minutes. His muscles are tense and he sits rigid in his seat. He lets out his breath in a gentle hiss and tries to force himself to relax. Out the corner of his eye he sees Michaela give him a look of concern. Fuck. He needs to be less conspicuous.

He blinks hard, gives a small shake of his head, and tries to refocus. Annalise is hammering the prosecution’s witness, no doubt he should be paying attention. 

But he can’t.

Instead, he shifts again in his seat. But he can’t seem to find a position that relieves the pressure. He continues to take shaky breaths. _Inhale, and exhale, inhale, and exhale…_ But no matter which way he shifts his hips, it leaves him gasping and shaking, utterly unable to focus on the case unfolding before him in the courtroom. 

“The O-man give it to you too hard last night, or something?” 

He jerks his head back to glare at Asher, just as Laurel simultaneously shushes him. “Shhh!” She hisses.

Asher throws both hands up innocently and sits back into his seat, a smirk on his face.

Connor turns his head back to the front. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It calms him, a bit. Just don’t think about it, he tells himself. Focus on Annalise, _what is she saying?_

But the sensations too easily distract him from the monotony before him, and he rocks back in his seat. The resulting jolt of pleasure leaves him trembling. He gasps softly, and prays no one notices. 

Michaela does. She gives him another concerned glance. 

Well his concentration is shot. He wriggles in his seat and it only causes the feelings to intensify. It’s teasing his nerves, and he squirms against the pressure. His heart rate had been steadily increasing over the past hour they had been in the courtroom. No chance of him calming down now.

The constant throbbing in his nether regions is relentless. He bites his lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood and clenches involuntarily, which causes his hips to jerk and twitch. For a moment he has to close his eyes and focus on breathing through his nose, lest he cause a scene. 

He shivers and trembles. Thinking the feeling has mostly passed, he tries to relax again. But it only causes another jolt of pleasure to course through him.

A soft moan escapes from between his lips. 

Oh, he’s going to kill Oliver when he gets home.

“Are you okay?” Michaela whispers to him.

Not trusting himself to speak at the moment, he simply nods his head quickly and prays that it’ll all be over soon. 

Someone must have been listening to him because when he next focuses his attention, everyone around him is standing and ready to leave.

He attempts to bring his heart rate down to something resembling calm as he steadily gets to his feet. His hands grip the seat in front of him, hard enough that his knuckles turn white as he leans heavily. 

“Connor, you’re not looking so good.” Michaela’s concerned voice has him shaking his head frantically.

“I’m fine,” he stutters, and they all start shuffling out of the court room. The others are ahead of them. Michaela hangs back, walking at his pace. She watches him in concern as he attempts to walk as normally as possible. But he must not be able to mask his face as well as he’d like.

“Connor, you really don’t look well. Are you feeling sick?” Michaela asks him once they’re outside of the room. “You should go home if you’re feeling sick.”

They’ve gathered in the hallway, waiting for Annalise and Bonnie to finish talking with their client. “I’m fine,” Connor whispers as he leans against the wall. He closes his eyes as he tries to keep the tremors to a minimum. He can barely trust his legs to hold him up at the moment. 

“Hey guys.”

The familiar voice makes him jump, and his eyes jerk open to see Oliver’s grinning face. That devious little bastard.

“O-Oliver! W-what–”

“What are you doing here?” Michaela beats him to it.

“Connor texted me!” Oliver says cheerfully. His eyes are glued to Connor’s face. And though the others may not notice, Connor knows him well enough to recognize the expressions that the man has nearly perfectly masked. He sees the cunning, mischievous gaze, along with one single underlying feeling: arousal.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well, so I’m going to take him home. I hope that’s alright. You guys can manage without him for an afternoon, right?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Michaela insists gently.

“Come on,” Oliver motions for him. 

He hesitates, still not quite trusting his legs yet. “Um… m-my car is still here.”

“It’s okay,” Michaela says, “One of us will bring it back to the house.”

“Th-thanks,” he stutters and carefully reaches into his pocket for his car keys. He looks up to see Oliver smirking at him, clearly trying not to break out into a full grin.

“Feel better, Connor.”

“Bye, guys.”

“Later, bro.”

Connor clings to Oliver as the other man leads him away. He draws deep shaky breaths as shivers continuously wrack his frame. Every slow step has him gasping and trembling. His knees nearly give out on their way to the parking lot.

“I hate you,” he whimpers.

“You love me, Connor.”

But he’s feeling far too sensitive, and he simply keens and whines. His fists grip the soft material of Oliver’s shirt, completely beyond speech.

“Good thing you wore those compression shorts, right?” Oliver says with a grin.

“Fuck you,” he hisses.

“I bet you’re so hard right now,” Oliver says in a low voice.

“Please, please, please Ollie.” He moans unintelligibly as they reach Oliver’s car. Oliver wrenches the passenger door open, and slowly, carefully, gently deposits him into the seat. He writhes in pleasure against the soft leather, arching his back, hands reaching out for the other man.

“Fuck, you look so hot right now.”

“Ollie,” he whines, on the verge of tears.

Oliver shakes his head. He slams the door shut and nearly runs to the driver’s side. “When we get home,” he says simply.

“No, no I can’t,” Connor gasps. “Just throw me in the back and fuck me into the seats.”

Oliver grins, but shakes his head again as he speeds out of the parking lot. 

“I can’t believe you, you kinky son of a bitch.” Connor wheezes and moans as the movements of the car cause the silicone inside of him to constantly rub against his prostate. “When you woke me up this morning, with your fucking finger in my ass, lubing it up, just to shove a fucking _butt plug_ in it!”

Oliver grins widely, his eyes glued to the road as he tries to get them home as quickly and safely as possible.

“We’re almost home, Connor. Fuck, you are so hot.”

“Ollie,” he whines. “I hate you so much. We were in there for over an hour.”

Oliver reaches over to squeeze the bulge in the front of Connor’s pants, causing whimpers and moans to be torn from Connor’s throat. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, I’m not sure we’ll make it to the bed.”

Connor groans in anticipation. 

“Next time you have a business meeting, this is going in your ass. See how you like it, you _monster_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [x](http://winters-blue-children.tumblr.com)


End file.
